Living With Distractions
by MyLittleStorys
Summary: To live normally would be too simple, wouldn't it? Something or someone is waiting for Annie. Season 2, semi-spoilers. Follows on from earlier fic Distractions.
1. Kissess and threats

_**Hey there! So I'm kinda making up my own wee story, it does follow what's been happening in Series 2 but I'll be ading my own little ideas. Plus there will be some OC's later on. I'm a big Annie/Mitchell fan so yeah, here it is...Hope it's all good! I don't own Being human :(**_

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Mitchell threw his keys on the hallway table, shrugging off his jacket; it had been a long, long day. He dragged himself to the old leather couch occupied by a slouched Annie, whose eyes were closed, contemplating her own thoughts. Mitchell kicked off his boots and joined her, sharing a similar slumped position, stretching out his long legs.

Noticing movement on the couch, Annie rolled her head to face Mitchell, cracking her eyes open slightly 'Hello stranger'.

Rubbing his tired faced with the palm of his hands, Mitchell released a long breath. It was pretty obvious to Annie that he had a hell of a day, but asked anyway 'Some day then?'.

'You're telling me. I just want some fucking peace and quiet, you know. Bloody Ivan, doing my head in', Mitchell leaned his head against the head rest, peeling off his gloves and throwing them across the room.

Annie grinned sympathetically, 'Want to talk about it?'.

Mitchell shrugged 'Nah, this is peaceful time'.

Annie accepted this and they both gazed at the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular.

'I bet you a fiver that my day was worse than yours' Annie wearily stated, noticing a cobweb she missed on the ceiling.

'I'll take that bet', Mitchell mumbled, 'How was your day then?'.

Now it was Annie's turn to release a puff of air, 'Well I now know why people don't wonder down dodgy alleyways. That _they_ are willing to kill innocent people just to get me. Oh! I'm screwed, unless Sykes helps me. I met another ghost by the way, strict, but a nice fella, says he is going to help me'. Annie stated the last part mostly for her own good; she had to be confident Sykes would help her.

Mitchell sat straighter, attention focused on Annie's unmoving form, 'What happened in the alleyway?'.

Her gaze remained on the ceiling, as though the little control she had might crumble to reveal all vulnerability, 'A drug addict died and _they _said wait for me. The door appeared and we fought. Actually, he dragged me about a bit. I was a bit pathetic in the fighting department. It was like Saul all over again. Everything went a bit white, like a flash, and then Sykes was there'. Annie sat up straight now and distractedly picked at her cardigan 'If Sykes hadn't been there…' she didn't want to finish that sentence.

'Did he hurt you, the addict?' the word addict seemed to stick in Mitchell's throat for a millisecond, a small truth hit home.

Annie's hands stopped moving. She hoped Mitchell hadn't noticed the light bruising around both her wrists. He did, and carefully examined her hands. Apparently a ghost could inflict injuries on another, a fact he never knew before, maybe just temporary injuries he thought.

'Nothing serious, I'm a ghost, remember?', Annie shoulder nudged Mitchell, not wanting him to worry.

Mitchell spoke softly, eyes unmoving from her small wrists which were slowly warming in his grasp, 'Can you trust him?'. To say he was a little weary of this Sykes character was an understatement.

Annie's eyes gleamed conviction and determination 'I have to, what other option have I got? Wait around for them to drag me through the corridor, no thanks'.

Tracing small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, Mitchell nodded his head slowly 'Ok'. Without meeting him, Mitchell already disliked this Sykes character, but he gave in to those eyes. If Annie trusted him, Mitchell supposed he would have to also.

Annie smacked her lips together, awkwardly chuckling 'Well this is a little depressing'.

'Seems to be the theme of the month', Mitchell bit his lip out of habit, transfixed by the tingling sensation radiating from Annie's skin.

Annie propped her head on Mitchell shoulder, a motion she dearly missed and savoured the moment. The close proximity resurfaced recent memories of kissing Mitchell…and other things. Blushing, Annie smiled secretly to herself.

Lightly stroking the curls of her dark hair, Mitchell slyly looked down to study Annie's features, a small smile twitched her lips. He tried, half-heartedly, to push the x-rated thoughts raiding his mind as his hand glided to her cool neck. God he wanted to kiss her, feel her smooth skin press against his. Shit. He must have been staring too long as Annie wriggled to tilt her head.

Looking up Annie could see the desire clouding Mitchell's eyes. Admittedly, she felt the desire too, the ache to feel Mitchell's hand explore every inch of her body once again.

Mitchell swept his finger tips across her check leaving a trail of sparks lingering on her skin. Annie closed her eyes, savouring the touch. To _feel_ again was unbelievably amazing after so long. Annie parted her lips in anticipation as Mitchell leaned in, closing the gap with a deep, passionate kiss. Their bodies pressed together, merging with a magnetic force.

Unwillingly, Mitchell inched away, cupping her face in his hands, kissing her swollen lips lightly before speaking in that husky accent that drove Annie mad, 'Should we be doing this?'. His eyes searched for any sign of reluctance. Of course he wanted this, but he had to make sure Annie was on board.

Annie bit her bottom lip; eyes sparkling in a seductive manner Mitchell had never seen her display. She leaned close to Mitchells ears and whispered, 'Friends with benefits?', moving her eyebrows up and down. The answer seemed pretty obvious to her.

'I can live with that' Mitchell rapidly replied before diving into back into the kiss.

His hands hungrily travelled to her waist, pulling Annie to straddle his hips, hands working underneath her cardigan to touch the small of her back. Annie gasped under his touch and rapidly unbuttoned his shirt, to reveal his flat, toned chest.

Mitchell slid the material of her tank top, displaying a smooth, bare shoulder; lips travelling to the now exposed shoulder, concentrating on her collarbone, an area he previously discovered played havoc on Annie.

Purring in appreciation, Annie tilted her head back as Mitchell's stubble grazed her neck. Mitchell smiled and mumbled against her skin 'God, you are beautiful'.

Annie suddenly spoke with a serious tone, 'When's George back?'.

Mitchell grunted, 'What? I don't think George would appreciate the offer.'

Annie chuckled and she guided Mitchell's free hand down the curve of her hips teasingly, 'I mean, when's he back?'

'Five or something, I don't care', he had the important task of removing her grey top at hand.

If there was a prize for the most inappropriate timing, George would win first place without a doubt. On cue, George's keys rattled in the door lock 'I'm home!'.

'Popping' from Mitchell's lap, Annie smoothed her hair and clothes, glaring at Mitchell, who groaned in disapproval from the sudden interruption, adjusting himself appropriately.

George eyed the pair suspiciously; they seemed in his opinion rather shifty, 'What have you two been up to then?'.

Annie scratched her head looking everywhere but Mitchell, 'Nothing' while her partner in crime buttoned the remainder of his shirt before smoothing his ruffled hair, 'Just got back George, busy day, vampire stuff etcetera'.

Satisfied, yet still suspicious of their answers, George shook the grocery bag in hand, 'Ok, we'll I've got some beers and you two crazy kids can wait here while I cook'.

'I can give you a hand, if you want?', Annie's face remained slightly flushed.

George walked into the kitchen, shouting back, 'No, no it's ok Annie, I'm more than capable'.

'You heard the man', Mitchell stood, and checking George was out of view and kissed her quickly before heading for a beer.

* * *

The three housemates lazed in the living room watching 'The Real Hustle', George sprawled on the red arm chair, Annie and Mitchell sharing the couch.

'Annie. Have you ever, you know…" George scrunched his nose and made a weird gesture with his hands, causing Annie wrinkle her forehead in confusion.

'I mean', George coughed nervously, 'had ghost sex', in a squeaky whisper.

Mitchell chocked on the beer he had been drinking and George shot him a quizzical look. Annie laughed awkwardly 'No! Noo, no, no, no'.

'Really, you never tired?' George was curious tonight. Mitchell coughed, recovering into his cool demeanour.

Annie nervously fidgeted in her seat, pulling at strands of hair 'Phft of course not, you make me sound like a sex pest'. She didn't particularly like lying to George, but he would freak out big style...and the lectures!

George pointed an accusing finger, 'The only sex pest around here is Mitchell'.

'What? Like fuck I am', Mitchell slouched further into the couch. This was a losing battle.

'Erm yes you are! You've spent the last hundred odd years bedding the ladies of the world. It's a well known fact; check Wikipedia', George dodged the cushion thrown by Mitchell, narrowly missing his head, 'Hey! Glasses!'.

'Jesus George, so I'm an old sex pest", George shrugged apologetically and focused on the TV again. Annie chuckled.

Mitchell turned to Annie, 'I'm not a sex pest!', laughing as she poked him in the ribs, 'I'm not!'.

Annie smiled happily, as the night passed on. George was dozing in the chair, occasionally snoring and Mitchell stroking the back of her neck, reading a magazine. She was safe and comfortable with the two people she trusted in the world. That was until the TV screen flickered.

The film character tapped the screen, looking straight at Annie, taunting, 'Annie! It won't be long now! We're coming for you and no one will help. You belong to us!'

Annie stiffened, unable to remove her eyes from the screen. Mitchell didn't notice! It was only her that could see them. She swallowed and moved into the kitchen. The actress laughed and the voices rose, piercing her ears. Annie moved to the sink, using her hands to cover her ears. She couldn't make them stop and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

Annie leaned onto the sink, head down. Just try to clear your head. She squeezed her eyes tightly. The voices were loud; crying, screaming, confusion and fear. Why did she hear them, what could she do? Annie bit back a small cry so the other two couldn't hear her in the kitchen, instead in came out as a pathetic whimper.

George didn't hear a peep from the kitchen, Mitchell did though and he quietly crept up to the kitchen and saw Annie hunched over the sink. He quickly walked over and attempted to turn her round, unsuccessfully due to her ice grip onto the sink, 'Annie, what's wrong?'. Now he was getting worried.

She shrugged him off uncharacteristically and kept her head down. The voices, the screams were becoming fainter now. Having Mitchell close seemed to dim them down somewhat, she could concentrate again.

'Sorry, it's…I hear them Mitchell, in my head. And sometimes it's hard to make them stop', Mitchell wrapped himself around her, sitting his head upon her shoulder. He began to free her death grip on the sink counter, 'It's ok, just relax'.

'Mhum', she nodded in response as the voices were vanished completely and she finally opened her eyes, looking down to the empty sink, 'Thanks' Mitchell'.

He kissed below her earlobe 'Come on, lets laugh at George snoring'.

'Yea…oh!' Annie gasped in horror as she looked through the kitchen window. Glaring back was a woman with black, curious eyes and an evil grin. Her gargle drew Mitchell's attention to the window and he didn't like what he saw.

'Jesus fucking Christ', he sprang to the front door ripping it open, greeted by an amused looking Ivan, 'Mitchell! I was just about to knock'.


	2. Strangers in the night

**_Hey hey! Stumbled across this on my laptop the other day and realised I really need to finish it! __Yet to write anything longer than four chapters so this should be fun! Hope it's ok, and a wee review (even to tell me how bad it is hehe) will make my day :D. Oh also, I changed my name to my LJ name, so adios to loving_the_greek_system! _**

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Annie gasped in horror as a grinning face peered through the window. A woman- with black, prying eyes laced with dark curiosity – pressed her forehead against the clean glass.

Annie's sudden gargle drew Mitchell's attention to the window and he did not like what he saw.

"Jesus fucking Christ" spat Mitchell, releasing his hold from Annie.

Mitchell sprang to the front door ripping it open without any thought to the old hinges. The figure standing in front of him belonged to an amused Ivan, hands tucked into an expensive Italian suit.

"Mitchell! I was just about to knock", said Ivan. He appeared unfazed by the unwelcome vibe radiating from Mitchell.

"What do you think you're doing here Ivan," Mitchell eyed the surrounding street, searching for anyone else to make an unwelcome appearance, "This is my home!".

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd pay you a little visit" replied Ivan craning his head to look over Mitchell's shaking shoulders into the hallway, "You're all here I see?".

Mitchell remained silent, rapidly trying to think of a solution to get rid of Ivan and Daisy as soon as possible, but his mind was drawing a blank. This could easily spiral into his worst nightmare. This shouldn't be happening, not here; his one place of refuge.

"Don't make this awkward Mitchell, let an old friend in, and Daisy, of course, it's rude" said Ivan, knowing Mitchell was helpless to oblige.

"Why? What do you want?" asked Mitchell crossing his arms.

"I have some news you might be interested in?" said Ivan, eager to force Mitchell to dance for his information.

"And it couldn't wait till tomorrow?" replied Mitchell, patience wearing thin as he sensed George shifting in the living room.

"No not really, it's important information involving us all; including your werewolf and ghost". A sly grin played on Ivan's lips before flashing back to an almost bored stillness.

George joined Mitchell at the door upon hearing the commotion.

"What the hell is he doing here?" George demanded, though his question was met with deaf ears.

"Maybe you should let us in, what would the neighbours think?" said Daisy, snaking her arms around Ivan.

Daisy pursed her lips and smiled, relishing in George's clear discomfort, "Hello George, missed me?".

"Fine, come in," sighed Mitchell in defeat, pushing a squeaking George back into the living room.

He briefly glanced to the kitchen to check on Annie who looked weary of the whole situation before turning to face Ivan, "Make this quick".

"Nice place you've got here. Cozy" said Ivan, half listening. His dark eyes scanned the interior of the little pink house, absorbing every detail of their hidden life's until his gaze landed on Annie who had crept through the kitchen beads, still lingering in the background.

"At last we meet the third musketeer! You must be Annie" spoke Ivan, voice laced with wonder and obvious interest.

Annie smiled nervously, shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

"Now aren't you something. The stories I hear are nothing compared to the real thing. Have you been keeping Annie all to yourself Mitchell?" asked Ivan, never removing his gaze from Annie.

Subconsciously, Mitchell and George stood protectively in front of Annie, finding no comfort for the way Ivan was eyeing her up.

"I don't see what's so special," stated an uninterested Daisy, perched on the couch arm rest, "and to die in grey, such a tragedy". She rolled her eyes, giving Annie the up and down with keen disliking.

"You're too young to appreciate the power in this one. No offence Daisy", replied Ivan.

"What information do you have?" asked Mitchell, keen to move the conversation on swiftly.

Ivan's eyes flicked between George and Mitchell, enjoying the rapid decay in their patience.

"Have you heard of a programme called CENSSA?" asked Ivan and received blank looks from the trio.

"They are an elite group, a marriage between religion and science with one goal - to eradicate the world of what is not human. It begins with the werewolves, then the ghosts and now us" said Ivan, moving closer to Daisy.

"Normally," he continued, "I wouldn't be concerned, individuals have tried and failed, but I have a valid source".

"And what source would that be?" asked Mitchell.

"That's a need to know basis Mitchell" said Ivan.

"Even if that were true Ivan, the old ones would never let that happen" scoffed Mitchell, knowing that ultimately, humans were weak in comparison, they didn't have a chance. It was a morbid analysis, but true nonetheless.

"Maybe," considered Ivan, "but this is Bristol and the residues of Herrick's actions linger on. This is still a free mans land and it's much more fun to wait and watch its own destruction".

"Their homing in on us Mitchell, the humans are finally doing something! It's all about to kick off" Ivan finalised, poking a finger onto Daisy's nose.

"Let's go baby, its dinner time!" said Ivan pulling Daisy to her feet.

"Enjoy your evening boys - Annie, wonderful to meet you" he called over his shoulder.

Daisy blew a kiss in George's direction, and they were gone, leaving the ghost, vampire and werewolf standing in a worried silence, heavy in the air.

"What's he talking about Mitchell?" asked George, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

"I honestly don't know" replied Mitchell, staring at the closed door. His mind was racing at the implications of Ivan's words.

"Don't know, or don't want to say" demanded George, becoming growingly annoyed.

"This isn't just some vampire thing Mitchell, this involves us all, don't hide us from this!" he pleaded, knowing exactly how Mitchell would react.

"Its bullshit George, nothing will come about it, so can we just drop it please" said Mitchell, slumping onto the couch as if to emphasise this conversation was over.

George licked his lips and muttered 'fine' before climbing the stairs to his bedroom.

Annie watched him retreat to his bedroom and silently walked into the kitchen, sitting down onto the chair facing the living room. She could hear Mitchell breathe a weary breath and she let him be – when he got like this, sometimes it was best to leave him be.

She was worried. Whether Ivan was playing them or not, the thought of anybody hunting them down scared her, angered her. As did the manner of Ivan and Mitchell's tone, which ultimately was a vampire trait. They – vampires - are superior to humans; that's what she picked up. Any sort of uprising was a form of mild entertainment. But if you discovered what monsters lurked in our world, could kill your loved ones, would you not do something about it?

It was times like these that Annie wondered what thoughts ran wildly through Mitchell's head, however he would always be a closed book. Even if he did open up, sometimes she wondered if she would like what she heard. She wasn't quite ready to burst that bubble quite yet.

Annie was so entirely lost in her own thoughts that she did not register Mitchell leaning against the doorframe, watching her with a furrowed brow.

"You know I won't let anything happen to you or George" said Mitchell quietly, determinedly.

"You can't promise that Mitchell and we can handle whatever happens next when we have to" sighed Annie, shaking her head.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Mitchell, sensing something was playing on her mind.

"That I've been dead for two years and know next to nothing about this hidden world that's out there" said Annie, leaning her head against one hand, " You know everything about me and George, ghosts and werewolves, but we know nothing about vampires, not about you".

He was already closing off the topic, unwilling to go there, as he walked forwards to kneel before her, "No, Annie, let's not go there".

She placed a cool hand against his cheek, smoothing her thumb gently against his stubble.

"You don't need to protect us from it, we need to know" said Annie, challenging his stare with hers.

"You don't. It's better this way, safer" said Mitchell, pushing stray curls behind her ears.

"Hmm…safer, yup" said Annie, tightening her jaw, slowly pulling his hands from her face.

"Safer to keep what's _yours _hidden? Keep us oblivious to the big bad world outside?" asked Annie. She wasn't angry, she was tired of living in this protective little bubble Mitchell had placed them in, one they happily accepted.

"You don't understand, Annie, I don't want you to see that part of me, cause once you do, you wont be able to look at me the same again" huffed Mitchell, standing up and wringing tired hands through his unruly hair.

Annie sat in silence considering this.

"You never give me the chance to understand" she replied, so quietly he almost never heard her before she did her 'rent-a-ghost' up to her room.

He stared at the vacant seat for a beat and retired to his room, needing to clear his head, wishing for a break just this once.

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**_Thanks for reading!_**


	3. Blood over tea

**_Heyo! This took a while to upload, wanted to get it just right cos I'm a bit nervous about it! But trust me, this will make sense in later chapters. Big thanks to those following this. As usual, apologies for any mistakes in grammar etc!_**

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Mitchell growled at the pile – actually mountain - of paperwork stacked on his desk. This was ridiculous - he really needed to get a computer. Having sent everyone home in a bid for peace and quiet, B. Edwards Funeral Parlour was now empty and Mitchell rapped his fingers to a beat against the untidy desk, eyeing the clock. He was expecting Ivan any moment now and the thought produced yet another growl.

The plan to 'clean' the vampires off blood was going better than expected, with the exception of Ivan. He didn't know what to do about that. On one hand, he understood Ivan's reasoning – god it was hard enough for Mitchell and that didn't clock a milestone against Ivan – however on the other hand he was repulsed, knowing the reality. An innocent girl was locked away, awaiting a slow, horrid fate after a lengthy torment. It sickened him, what he was doing, but not enough to put an end to it. He had crossed a line and now wondered if it was too late to fix it.

The rusty squeak of the door startled Mitchell momentarily as Ivan let himself in, punctual as always.

"Left with the paper work again? Why don't you get a computer or some sort of assistant? I can sort you out if you want?" said Ivan, dragging a chair in front of the desk to sit down.

Mitchell grinned, "Nah, I'm an old fashion kind of guy Ivan, keeps me busy."

Ivan snorted, "Even the old crow has a twitter account, your behind in your times, live in the moment."

He suddenly turned very serious, "Listen, Mitchell, I know you've put your neck on the line covering for my failures. I know you despise my ethics and I, in a way, am disappointed too. However, I have an offer, a once in a lifetime opportunity that I cannot allow to pass. I'll go clean, I will set an example."

Confused, Mitchell scratched his neck, "What do you mean?"

Ivan bared his teeth, "Exchange the girl's life for some time with your ghost, your Annie?"

Mitchell rose from his seat, releasing a snarled breathed through his teeth and slammed his hands into the table, "No! You do not go anywhere near her, or to help me god I will rip your throat out."

Enjoying this side of Mitchell, Ivan spurred on, "Now Mitchell, this isn't for discussion. Give me temporary lone of her or our little secret will be revealed to all your blood lusting followers who will be out in the streets once again, devouring all the little blips of humans you wish to save."

"Ivan, don't do this. There has to be another way," pleaded Mitchell.

Ivan shook his head, idly glancing to his vintage watch, "I'm afraid I can't let a rare cuisine like this pass, you remember the stories, don't you? There all true."

Ivan let Mitchell simmer for a moment, before continuing.

"I'll give you an hour and then I'll be round. Oh and Mitchell, don't do anything irresponsible or I might be inclined to do something cruel," said Ivan, leaving the building.

Mitchell was speechless, he had no choice, couldn't even form any words apart from snarling noises. The vampires he led were barely holding it together as it was. If they knew about Ivan, all hell would break loose; the death toll would be uncontrollable.

He snatched his jacket and headed for the door, praying he wouldn't be delayed and convince Annie to what? Leave? He wasn't sure. He just had to get back to the house. Annie didn't deserve this – not to be involved in his mess.

* * *

Mitchell raced back to the house - he would break into a run if it didn't look suspicious. He was losing time and of course his prayers were not answered. As fate would have it, his car was clamped and Wilson, of all evenings, had cornered him about some job involving a paedo. The Chief Constable was beginning to become a hindrance; however that came with the territory. That problem could wait for another time.

Slamming the front door shut, Mitchell heard Annie and George in the kitchen bickering about Eastenders, and breathlessly swatted the hanging beads out of his way.

George stopped mid-sentence, panic setting in his eyes as he digested Mitchell's dishevelled appearance, "What's going on Mitchell? What's happened?"

Mitchell stood still for a moment, slowing down his thoughts. He walked over to Annie's occupied chair crouching down, "You need to get out of here now, there isn't much time."

"I'm not going anywhere Mitchell until you tell me what's wrong. You're scaring me!" said a confused Annie, registering fear in Mitchell's eyes.

"There isn't time to explain. Annie, please, we need to get you away now!" ordered Mitchell, grabbing her arm and pulling Annie to her feet.

George stood at the same time, seriously concerned about Mitchell's outburst.

"No! You're hurting my arm!" shouted Annie, causing Mitchell to release his grip and ruffle his hair frantically, wishing she would stop being so god damn stubborn for one minute.

"Look! Just rent-a-ghost to the cinema or something, for a couple of hours and I'll explain everything when you get back. In fact, let's all go. George, you're always banging on about never going out…"

George slammed his hands against the table and spoke with an unusual authority, "Ok, everyone, mainly Mitchell, needs to calm down! Right, now tell us what the hell is going on!"

George's request was answered by the doorbell and Mitchell gravely stared into the hallway was Ivan let himself into their home, "It's too late. I am sorry, so sorry…"

George and Annie watched Ivan edgily as he sauntered into the kitchen, as if this was his land, "Hello again! Please, take a seat we have some business to discuss."

Annie glanced to George, who looked just as worried as her, and to Mitchell who refused to remove his gaze from the floor. They sat.

"Let me get straight to the point, I'm blackmailing Mitchell. He's set up a good blood-free vampire group and I honestly can't give it up, in fact we have a nice young girl locked away all for my eating habits. That's were you come in Annie. I want your blood in exchange for the girl's life." He paused, letting the information settle, "I believe in Mitchell's goodness - a little bit unrealistic - but he's doing something."

"That's ridiculous! She's dead! How could that even work - not that she's going to do it," stammered George, utterly shocked and confused about Ivan's demand.

"You cry though, you feel and touch. It's an ancient legend that really only we old vampires know about. The blood of a powerful ghost like you Annie is the most tantalizing treasures we can ever experience. One drink can allow us to survive months without human blood. I've not see one like you for about 150 years!" said Ivan watching her with wonder.

"He's right," said Annie quietly. She had never told George or Mitchell she had accidentally cut herself once. A deep paper cut inducing a small trickle of blood sparking curiosity and fear. How could a ghost bleed?

Mitchell looked up suddenly, with a disappointed expression that implied 'why didn't you say anything?'

"I wasn't exactly going to flaunt it in your face Mitchell that I could bleed! I can be tactful on some occasions," said Annie matter-of-factly.

"My terms - release the girl, she'll have no recollection and I won't touch another human until I can go cold turkey as they say. I want to do it. Humans will be safe from us. And Mitchell will know if I touch a human, but that won't happen, will it?" summarised Ivan, clasping his fingers together on the table.

"Is this all true Mitchell?" asked Annie, facing him fully for the first time since Ivan's proposal, horrified he had gone to such unethical lengths.

Mitchell nodded his head, unable to meet her devastated stare, "I didn't know what else to do! Please, you have to understand…"

Annie turned back to Ivan, cutting Mitchell off with the flick of her hand, "Will it hurt?"

"No! Just stop this nonsense!" shrieked a flabbergasted George.

Annie shot him a silencing glance and he mouthed her name back at her in disbelief.

"Initially yes it will, but the pain will subside after time. You will feel weakened but with rest you'll be A-ok, back to normal," said Ivan.

"Annie, you're not doing this? How can you seriously consider this?" stammered George, wanting to physically shake sense into his friend.

"What choice do I have George? How can I sit here and drink tea, while that innocent girl is being ripped apart by those monsters? I can't turn my back knowing what's happening…that she's alone, I refuse," stated Annie, desperately needing George to realize this was not about her.

George turned to Mitchell to back him up, "Mitchell? Tell her this is insane! Absolutely ridiculous! We're not… pimping Annie out!"

"Annie, please…" sighed Mitchell, but he knew this was a pointless battle, her decision was made.

"Will you know if he's lying, if he kills another person again?" asked Annie.

Mitchell nodded his head solemnly, resolved. Her eyes were locked on his with so much finality and regret, it made his stomach twist. As though finally the pieces of puzzle were coming together, the ones he desperately hid from her because she deserved better, exposing the monster to her now open eyes.

"Ok, when do we do this?" asked Annie, pulling her sleeves to her elbows.

George made several 'pfht' noises and swung his arms in the air, "I'm not getting involved in this."

Annie placed a cool hand on his arm, stopping George from leaving – she couldn't do this alone.

"I've not fed for a week, how about tonight?" answered Ivan.

Annie shivered involuntarily, imagining a scared girl locked away for a week – alone and terrified. It sickened her. She remembered what Herrick had set up before, the 'blood bank'. She'd had witnessed the horrendous conditions, the death and desperation. And now Mitchell - who protected her and George, loved them - had done the same dreadful act.

"I think you should wait outside for this Mitchell, it might get a little uncomfortable," said Ivan, glancing over to an ashen Mitchell.

"No, I'm staying put Ivan," replied Mitchell. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her.

"Just go, I don't want you here Mitchell. Just come back when it's done. George, can you stay? Please, in the kitchen?" said Annie.

Her dismissive tone was enough to send Mitchell reluctantly outside to simmer in an impatient worry. He made sure he had plenty of cigarettes to tame his pacing across the pathway.

* * *

Annie nervously hugged her strained cardigan around her body as they moved to the living room.

"So, how does this go down then, do you seduce me or something. That's just in films isn't it?" she laughed, croaky and high-pitched. It's what she did when she was anxious; laugh inappropriately or blabber on and on.

Ivan stood before her, somehow radiating a calmness that relaxed her. He was definitely an unusual character, intimidating, but oozing an authority and disassociated charm related to life experience. It was a difficult concept to wrap her mind around - that someone could witness so much history, remain ageless for such a stretch of time. Annie wondered if she too would become an eternal soul - invisible to the world but witnessing the rise and fall of years to come. The thought had been plaguing her mind recently, worming its way in so her days and nights were consumed by what if?

"Sit and relax, Annie. Ask me anything, you want, I get the impression you like to ask questions," said Ivan, leaning back against the couch, crossing one leg in an elegant manner.

Timidly, Annie sat on the worn couch, knotting her fingers together. Her stomach tightened, non-existent heart fluttering in her rib cage – she recalled feeling this way waiting to get her ears pierced. "How old are you exactly? Mitchell hasn't really mentioned you before," she asked.

"Well, that does sound like Mitchell. It's been 247 years since I was first recruited," he replied and Annie's eyes boggled before she could stop herself, silently mouthing 'wow'.

"And you've met a ghost like me?" she asked, biting down on her curiosity and the smallest glimmer of hope that maybe this ghost was still about.

Ivan nodded his head, "Unlike the majority of vampires today, I was taught the ways of the old ones – the laws, the traditions, the milestones of history. My creator introduced me to the ways of an old world. We attended elite gatherings, host to a spectrum of supernaturals, some no longer in existence today. A shame really. Make no mistake though - our intentions were cruel and horrifying. Times were different back then. That's were I met her – the most anticipated guest. From what I was told, the girl originated from Japan, refused her door countless times and travelled the corners of the globe. Even then, young as I was, I knew she was different, the most corporal spirit I had seen – she radiated a power that drew you in. She was rooted to this plane, pulled strength and energy from her surroundings, until eventually she was no longer a ghost, but an entity entirely of her own will with no constraints. Her existence wasn't hidden, she chose her path."

Ivan eyes fazed back to a distant memory as he continued, "I remember her sliding a knife across her wrist, the blood, the smell…was the purest essence…it spilled into glasses and the elders drank."

"What happened to her?" whispered Annie, shocked at the blunt glimpse of vampire history, another step into Mitchell's hidden past.

"She disappeared. No one saw her again. Some say she finally chose her door, others say she simply vanished, consumed by the air."

Annie nodded and sunk into the heavy silence that followed. She couldn't phantom an understanding to this beautiful girl. Why would she offer herself to such brutality and exposure? Was there something to gain? Maybe she was into that sort of thing (Annie scoffed).

The clocks were ticking, an end was rushing closer whether Annie wanted it or not. Would she too vanish into the wind, no one knowing her fate? Would she finally be dragged to the other side, leaving George and Mitchell to only guess why her presence was missing, no goodbyes?

"You rejected your door. The rules have been altered," said Ivan, interrupting her worried thoughts. He was able to read her like a book, when even George or Mitchell struggled at the best of times. "Ultimately, it's you that chooses your path, the worlds your oyster."

Ivan tilted her head back as Annie relaxed onto the couch, "I have to say, this arrangement you have here is rather pleasant."

A buzz worked through Annie, running from her head down to her toes, as Ivan's smooth voice and intense eyes fixated her mind. She was now leaning against the head rest, frozen in place.

The hunger crept into Ivan's eyes, and Annie's breathing hitched as she waited for the inevitable. He swept her hair, exposing her neck, but to her surprise he reached for her wrist.

"For Mitchell's sake I'll leave your neck alone," said Ivan, as his eyes swirled into a coal-black darkness.

Annie squeezed her eyes shut as teeth broke through the thin skin of her wrist. The pain was instant, intense, throbbing. Her wrist burned and white spots danced behind her closed eyelids. Sounds thudded against her eardrums, making every hum echo. She could feel blood drain, pulling her energy with it. It was an odd sensation; unnatural that a ghost should bleed. Yet, she wasn't a normal ghost was she? She had defied deaths door and now the rules were unwritten.

As quickly as the pain began, it wore off, easing into an uncomfortable, yet bearable numbness. Time passed unnoticed as Annie floated through a dream-like stance. She felt light, unattached to anything, free of her fears but once again the thought of vanishing into nothingness returned her thudding back to the present.

Ivan finished, lapping any remaining droplets from her prickling wrist. Annie lifted her heavy eyelids, anticipating a bloody mess, but Ivan had done a good job, clean, no blood in sight.

Ivan gently placed her onto the couch, sitting her legs onto his now vacant seat. She obliged, physically unable to move, everything blurry and dim. Through tired thoughts she wondered if their victims felt like this – a dream-like trance.

"Don't blame Mitchell for this, he's a good man," said Ivan quietly, before turning to a white-faced George sitting on the bottom stairs.

George immediately stood, clearly unsure what to do or say.

Ivan patted his shoulder, instructing the werewolf, "Keep beside her until she feels better, she'll know when, ghosts need the contact to recharge." Ivan's eyes flicked to the front door, "I'll let Mitchell in."

George nodded his head violently, "Yeah, ok," and made his way over to Annie. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully, but on closer inspection he discovered her eyes were slightly opened, unfocused.

With a final glance to George, Ivan opened the front door and met an agitated Mitchell, throwing the remains of a cigarette to the ground.

"Pull yourself together Ivan," hissed Mitchell, shoving past and slamming the door in his bemused face.

Mitchell rushed into the living room and all but jogged over to the couch, gently pushing George out the way so he could kneel in front of Annie.

"Mitchell, just leave her alone, you've done enough for one night!" snapped George trying to pull Mitchell away, only to be shrugged off.

"No I need to know she's ok," said Mitchell.

"George, its ok, you big lump, I'm fine, just a little sleepy that's all," whispered Annie, smiling weakly, squeezing George's twitching hand, in attempt to reassure him.

Mitchell examined her face with his fingers, looking for any marks. He was concerned about her appearance; she wasn't as corporal as usual, fading in and out. She looked sickly, and pale, eyes dimmed of their usual brightness.

"I'm so sorry," mumbled Mitchell, his voice engulfed with remorse as he caressed her face. He couldn't see any bite marks on her neck.

Sensing what Mitchell was searching for, she whispered 'wrist', before exhaustion overtook her and for the first time since death, she slept.

Mitchell examined the raw bite on Annie's wrist, thankfully fading back to normal.

"Is she ok? Should she be fading like that?" asked a panicked George.

"She's sleeping George," said Mitchell, shrugging off his jacket, "she'll be ok when she wakes." At least physically anyway, he worried.

"Ivan said human touch will…restore her. Will that work?" stammered George.

"It can be me too. I'll stay with her George, you go to bed," said Mitchell, already positioned on the couch with Annie wrapped close around him, careful not to wake her.

George stood still, unsure what to do until Mitchell nodded, encouragingly, "She'll be ok in the morning George."

"You brought this into our home," said George, refusing to look at Mitchell.

"I know," said Mitchell, regretfully, combing a finger through Annie's hair.

With a last worried look at Annie, George retired to his room.

Mitchell wondered if George would forgive him for this, but at this moment, he was too concerned about Annie to care. He continued to watch her sleep until he finally joined her, falling into an uneasy slumber.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! BTW, a bit random but I remem TW mentioned that initially (instead of killing Mitchell off in S3) he was going to turn Mitchel to the dark side. I would love someone to write an alternative S4 where this happens! I can only think of one scene so I'd be rubbish at writing it myself! **


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